


Habit/Curse

by CatHeights, Maverick



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:38:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2476721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keyword/Prompt Phrase: Cause  you want what you can have, And I don’t want to feel this bad, So just  give me something give me a chance.. Cause you push your dreams on me,  And when I reach out invitingly You go to slap away my hand." Eric Himan,  <em>Habit/Curse</em>.<br/>Timing: Set during Season Three's <em>Secret Identities</em>.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Habit/Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Oz Magi](http://oz-magi.livejournal.com/). Prompt given by **Scissorknot**.  
> 

  
*~*~*~*~*

**Habit**

I'm done.

I did what you asked. I ratted on Schillinger and confessed my crimes. Hell, I even let you stab me. It was the least I could do after what went down in the gym. An eye for an eye, Oz style. I broke your bones, you shanked me. Even trade. Or so I thought.

Course, that wasn't enough for you, so I helped you set up Schillinger's kid. That was a brilliant plan, by the way. Only someone as twisted as you could figure out a way to make a father kill his own son. Of course, in your mind I'm sure you refuse to see it that way. But let's face it, you always knew the endgame there, even if you deny it to yourself. But again, not good enough. You look at me and just see the part of yourself that scares you.

So I tried again. I went and did a tango with the good Sister to earn your forgiveness and instead you just turn your back on me. You think you'll find what you're looking for at Said's side, that somehow religion will save you from yourself. I hate to burst your bubble, but religion won't change the man you are, no matter how hard you pray. The thing you ain't realized yet is there's nothing wrong with who you are. Those dark and dirty facets of yourself that you shy away from are the reason you're still alive today.

But you fight against your nature time and again. And I'm done watching from the sidelines waiting to be called back into the game. Said is filling your head with ideas of redemption and salvation, but those things don't exist. Especially, not here in Oz. The only thing all those fancy words will ever get you is dead. Next he'll be telling you to _forgive_ Schillinger, the jizzbag who turned you into a prag even though we both know how that'll play out.

So I'm done.

I know it's only a matter of time before you move on to the next vice, if you live that long that is. Religion will never give you the high your body burns for. Because you're an addict, baby. You always will be. It could be booze or tits or religion, but you'll always be craving the next hit.

So you go ahead and try to find your salvation on your knees -- and ain't that fucking irony right there -- because we both know it won't last. Cause like I said, you're the addict, Toby, not me.

That's the difference between you and me. I ain't afraid to go cold turkey.  


  
*~*~*~*~*

**Curse**

Memory seems to shout in the dark, like a kid yelling, "Don't forget me." As if I could forget the pain of bones breaking and your mocking laughter. Forgetting should be as easy as it is to feel forgotten.  
  
Each night I get down on my knees, and I pray, "God, please remember me, Tobias." And if that night he chooses to hear me, I don't ask him to help me forget all the pain and humiliation, instead I pray, "lead me not into temptation." Because at night, I don't just remember your lies, I remember possibility. I remember what it was like to fall in love with you, to kiss you, and to have hope in this pit of despair.  
  
You cursed me Keller with the memory of hope, and I think that's what I hate you most for.  
  
Want to know something pathetic? Sometimes when I close my eyes, I swear I can feel your lips. You kiss me, and I taste love and passion. I feel your hands on my body, arousal their only intent. I force my eyes to open, ignoring my body's betrayal. Then I take deep breaths of bitter emptiness, letting reality be my cold shower.  
  
How can I hate you so much but still want you? How can I be so weak?  
  
I think that's why you keep coming around, like a dog begging for scraps. You sense my weakness and think there's a possibility you could still have me. Well that's not going to happen. I'm not giving in only to have you betray me all over again. I won't be weak. I'm going to find strength, faith and God's forgiveness, and break this curse.  
  
With Said's help, I will open myself up fully to God, and as I let him in, all of you that's in me, will be let out.  
  
I'll be free – saved. 

  


—FIN—


End file.
